


Star Fox: Genesis - Wolf's First Job

by Arminius_Fiddywinks



Category: Star Fox Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:13:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27092605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arminius_Fiddywinks/pseuds/Arminius_Fiddywinks
Summary: Wolf O'Donnell, before his rise to infamy, was a member of Star Fox. This one-shot story recounts his first paid job working for the mercenary outfit under the leadership of James McCloud, and the tutelage of the enigmatic draconic adventurer Paul Chmielnicki.(Also on Fanfiction.net, simply titled "Wolf")
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Star Fox: Genesis - Wolf's First Job

"So as far as he is able, a prince should stick to the path of good but, if the necessity arises, he should know how to follow evil."

# Wolf

"You selfish piece of cocksucking shit!" I yelled. Paul blurted out something in Ruthenian, I didn't know what he said initially. I asked him later, and he told me he said something along the lines of "Screwed again!" Yeah, I felt you brother. Then the shooting started. Actually, I started shooting.

The catwalk Paul and I were on wasn't ideal cover, so I shot our way off of it, mowing down the goon that threw the fucking gems that we really needed into the goddamn dump truck that passed below us. A few more of his pals were farther back, rushing onto the catwalks. I blew them away with my heavy blaster too. Paul covered our rear with his KF-07 rifle, keeping down some more goons. We ran to the other end of the catwalk over the road, and ducked behind solid iron plates. They weren't really helpful against blaster bolts, but it helped give us a few moments to think. I blind fired, wounding a few more goons while Paul looked around for an exit strategy.

"Ok," he started, "we go up on those stairs." He pointed to a flight of stairs just behind me. "Then, we loop back to the car and get the Hell out of here." I emptied my mag and reloaded, nodding in acknowledgement. He peeked out and shot one of them that was stupid enough to stay in the open. "Ready, Wolf?"

"Ready," I answered, cocking back the charging handle on my heavy blaster. We both nodded, and I blind fired again, forcing the bad guys to scramble for cover. Paul shot up and fired short controlled bursts, telling me to get going. I did as he covered me, and moved up the stairs and behind more iron plates alongside the railings of the catwalk. I shot at the goons that were hiding behind cover as he followed me, and I did get a bit overzealous: I sprayed where they were, my blaster bolts punching straight through the plates and killing those guys real good. We made a mad dash across the catwalks.

I heard more cars screeching to a halt in the parking lot not far away: apparently this industrial park we set up the meeting in wasn't so secluded after all. I saw one speeding down the street after we got off the catwalks, and I unloaded into it. The inside turned red quick, and the car smashed into a barricade. One goon, in the rear passenger seat, scrambled out to try and get a shot off, but I turned him into paste. I followed Paul as he went to our getaway car, his two-door jet-black old-fashioned hardtop coupe. A muscle car: how Paul of him. He and I hopped in, he started the thing, and we drove off. I heard blaster fire behind us, and a few bolts were deflected off of the shields he got on the thing. That was some luck on his part.

"That was fucking bullshit," I said. "The stones were there: right there! And we let him fuck it all up."

"If we shot him on that catwalk, he would've still dropped them," said Paul. "Maybe not into the truck, but definitely onto the street: still too exposed for us to grab them without getting shot."

"Yeah, whatever. What are we gonna tell the Boss now?"

"The truth, Wolf. Don't worry, I'll take the fall. I'll say you were covering me and I was just too slow."

"Nah, you don't have to say that. Besides, I was right there."

"Just let me get the blame. Jim's skeptical of you: you're younger than any of us. He thinks you're some city slicker from Corneria trying to act all tough. Don't give him a reason to give you the boot. You've got potential, and I don't want to see a guy like you go away, especially after your first job with us."

I tried to find the right words to thank him, but I wasn't good at that back then. I'm still not good at it now. I just said "okay."

We rolled down the street, some city distant city lights splashing a bit of their glare on me. Macbeth doesn't have many cities: much of the place is just mine after mine after industrial park after mine. They pump out so much minerals from the planet everyone's got enough of an income to live in cushy little houses. It's only in the big cities catering to the miners that things get a bit crowded, and people are packed into huge apartment blocks like sardines. I guess that's why they wanted to meet us in an industrial park, away from the cities or houses. A lot of places to run and hide, and nobody nearby, especially during night. After everything went to shit, I just wanted off of this rock fast. I didn't even want to hear the name "Macbeth" anymore.

We drove for a few more moments down the street, both of us occasionally glancing around, making sure we weren't followed. Some little jewelry or medallion or something was dangling in the rearview mirror. I think it was some sort of religious thing. Paul's not too spiritual or anything like that, but I do remember a few times he said he believed in God. Well, he's been alive for a while doing the same crazy shit I do, so there must be someone out there looking out for the guy. Speaking of, he's goddamn massive. 7 feet tall, 300-ish pounds of muscle, a wingspan of around 6 feet! His car was huge, so that he could actually fit in it. I felt like a 5-year-old in the seat. Whatever dragons eat, I want that.

We came up to a stoplight, the red LED lights bathing the both of us. I remember I kept replaying that whole scene over and over in my head. I kept trying to see what I did wrong, and what I could've done right. Could I have shot the guy before he ran up the catwalk? Could I have just shot them all when they first pulled up before they even started talking to us? Could I have jumped down onto the truck to get after the gems?

"Ah… fuck," I said in an exasperated tone. I slouched in the chair. Paul leaned back in his seat, too.

"What's the matter?" he asked. Like he needed to. Although, that was a move to make me talk. I think I needed to anyway.

"The first job on the team, and I fuck it up by not grabbing the gems."

"We all screw up sometimes, it happens."

"Well, it happened to me at the worst possible time. Now you're gonna take a hit that was supposed to go to me."

"I can live with it. Hey, Wolf…" I turned to him. "Let me give you some advice. Don't hesitate. When the time comes, just act. You're not the only one that screwed up back there: I wholeheartedly thought that guy wouldn't drop the gems off of the catwalk. I really believed that we could talk him out of it, but then he let go of the bag. Hmm. Yeah, sometimes even I don't follow my own advice, but I'm only mortal. And like every mortal, I'm imperfect."

I didn't really know how to respond to that, so I just threw out a "Yeah" as I leaned my head back against the headrest, easing my grip on my heavy blaster as the adrenaline in my veins settled down.

"It could be worse," I added. "We could've been shot."

"Actually," said Paul, "I didn't quite get off unscathed." He looked to one of his wings, and several scorch marks from blaster fire were imprinted onto his wings.

"Shit, we should get you back to the ship," I said in a concerned voice.

"Don't sweat it, Wolf," he replied. "'Tis but a flesh wound."

"You sure?"

"Yeah... Well, it's a bit of a sting if you touch it, but nothing much else beyond that. I'll live." I nodded, again at a loss as what to say exactly. The light facing the street perpendicular to us at the intersection turned yellow, but a dump truck sped right through just as it turned red. Then it hit me: that truck was the same truck the bag of gems was dropped into not too long ago. Both Paul and I glared at it as it sped past.

"Isn't that the truck with the gems on it?" I asked.

"I think that is," said Paul as the light went green. He turned and followed the truck. "When it stops, I'll deal with the driver, you find the stones."

"Got it," I said. We followed the truck a ways down the street, passing by factory after factory, warehouse after warehouse. The ones owned by more well-off people or companies had sentry droids by the front gates, eyeing us as we passed. Each of them was about as tall as Paul, and easily as strong and smart as him. Damn straight they knew we were packing heat, but they're programmed not to do a thing unless we step foot on their property. Fortunately for us, the truck pulled into a lot with no sentry bots.

"Hmm… let's rethink our plan here," said Paul as we pulled up to the curb, the truck going into a lot. The lot itself had some sort of warehouse, and the doors were wide open. Attached to it was what seemed to be a small office. I later found out it was a storage depot for iron ore pellets, which would later be used to make steel: don't ask me how. Anyway, Paul said "Follow me," and I did it. We both left our long blasters in the car, carrying only our pistols concealed on us. The dump truck backed up into the warehouse and dumped all of its load into some sort of storage container, and when it was finished it drove to the back of the lot. A pair of guys climbed up the iron staircase on the container and started to scan the new iron pellets.

"I'll cover you," Paul said. "Get up there and find the stones. I'll distract anyone that comes out of the office." He went towards the office, and stood in front of the door.

"O.K.," I said. We nodded to each other as I stepped into the warehouse and out of Paul's view. I headed to the staircase against the massive container, grabbing a hardhat and reflective vest I saw on a steel chair set against the wall as I went. I put them on to fit in, and climbed the stairs. When I reached the top, I peeked over and saw two workers using scanners to scan the pellets for anything, impurities probably. One of them probably heard me coming up, and so he looked up, this lanky cat, and spotted me.

"Who are you?" he said.

"I'm Malachi," I said, bullshitting my way through. I put on a thick Hibernian accent and plastered a wide grin on my face. "Bosses didn't say? They just brought me on yesterday. Today's me first day." I jumped down into the pile of pellets. The other worker, an owl, turned his head all the way around to look at me.

"Malachi?" asked the cat. He glanced at the owl. "Boss never told us."

"I guess they wanted me to be a surprise!" I said.

"Well, I'm Louis," said the cat. He then pointed to the owl. "That's Keith." I nodded, and shook their hands.

"So, I heard a new shipment came in," I said.

"That's right," said Keith. "Just some more iron pellets. Why don't you grab a scanner and help us out?" Now, there was a case with four scanners in it by the stairs. I went back and grabbed one, and turned it on. I set it to search for any anomalies in the pellets: notably, gemstones. I went to the far side of the container, away from those two to keep them from asking questions, although I occasionally glanced back at them. Then, one of them yelled out or something like that.

"What is this?!" said Keith. He dug out several handfuls of iron pellets to find a pouch. I rushed towards him, but stumbled as he held in his hands the pouch. He opened it, and no doubt saw the gemstones inside. His eyes widened and he let out a "Woah.."

"What is it?" asked Louis.

"Gems!" answered Keith. "Like, rubies and sapphires and things like that!"

"Woah!" Louis exclaimed. He went to Keith's side, and the two of them gazed at the gems in awe. I went to them.

"Lemme have a look," I said, outstretching my hand. Keith reluctantly gave me the pouch, and I opened it more and examined the gems. It all looked right, except for one thing: there was a transmitter. A fucking tiny little transmitter in between the gems with a little red light going on and off. I took out the transmitter and tossed it into the pellets.

"What was that?" asked Louis.

"Nothing," I said. I proceeded to put the pouch in my pocket, but Louis' hand grabbed my wrist.

"Hold on a second," he said. I stopped and glared at him. "We ain't sharing that?"

"Sharing?" said Keith. "I'm the one that found the thing."

"But we were both with you!" Louis said, releasing his grip on me. I didn't put the pouch in my pocket, not yet anyway.

"That's nonsense," replied Keith. "You were over there and he was all the way over there." Keith motioned to the far side of the container where I was.

"But we were nearby, so finders by proxy?" quipped Louis. "I mean, it's only fair we should split the gems. At least whatever reward there is for finding them."

"These gems are mine, boys," I blurted out. They looked at me.

"Like Hell they are!" Keith answered, pushing me. He almost caused me to fall down, but I regained my balance. He pointed one of his feathery fingers at me. "Here's what we're gonna do: we're gonna… Fine, we're gonna say we all found it together. We split the reward." Louis nodded in agreement. I moved my right hand toward my piece, hidden in my shoulder holster. My vision narrowed, and I felt my heart pumping. I looked towards the far side to find a single security camera. That didn't faze me from what I was going to do.

"Can't let you do that, boys," I said, dropping my accent. They looked confused as I drew on them and shot them dead with my pistol. Then I took aim at the camera, fired, and blew it to bits. I went down the staircase to find a bewildered Paul looking around.

"What the Hell was that?!" he exclaimed.

"Acting," I answered tersely. I went to the office to find some guy in a collared shirt and slacks coming out the door, some mutt or something. I put my blaster to his face. "Is your security footage off-site?" I interrogated him. He stumbled back into his office, and I pushed him against a desk. I asked him again, in a louder voice.

"N-n-n-no," he stuttered. "It's all here, in the office!" I told him to show me. Paul didn't stop me, he just stood watch. He looked disappointed though. I tried not to let that crush me right then and there, but damn it was hard. The mutt rushed to the security station at the back of the office, and he fumbled as he gave me full access to their security system. There were three cameras: I shot one.

"Wipe the footage, wipe everything," I said. He nodded and hurriedly deleted all of today's footage. "We weren't here. Understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, I understand!" replied the mutt in a terrified voice.

"Wonderful," I said. I shot the guy dead, and placed a live grenade next to the security controls. I rushed out, grabbing jewelry off of the guy: a gold watch. I hurriedly walked away, Paul right beside me.

"Wolf, we didn't need-" said Paul before being cut off by the explosion. He flinched slightly and turned to look at the blast, before returning his attention to me. "We didn't need to kill anyone."

"They fucking found the gems," I answered. "I acted. They also put a transmitter in the pouch, Paul. They fucking put a fucking tranmitter in the fucking pouch. They probably know right where we are. We gotta fuck off quick."

"Goddammnit," Paul said. "Then let's go." We went inside his car and sped off. It was too late, though. Literally as we just left the lot, they brought in air support: a gunship.

"Fuck me," I said. The thing started blasting us with its laser cannons. I can't thank Paul enough for having shields on his car: the blaster bolts were absorbed. But both of us knew that the shields wouldn't hold for long. Small arms couldn't do a thing to those shields, but full on cannon fire? No way, not forever.

We kept speeding down the street, the gunship blasting us and taking the shields apart little by little. I leaned out of the window with my heavy blaster and started unloading on the gunship. The pilot must've been good, since he dodged a good portion of them, although I did manage to score a few hits, mainly on the plating. Then, it let loose a small guided missile, slamming directly into the shields, which blew them out entirely.

"The shields are down!" exclaimed Paul.

"Fuck!" I yelled, recoiling back into the car. The blast knocked the wind out of me, and the heavy blaster out of my hands. It's probably lying, mangled, on some godforsaken Macbeth street now. Paul did his best to lose the ship. He went down side streets, he went through empty warehouses, he did turn after turn after turn. But every damn time, that gunship was almost right behind us. That pilot never lost us, even as he kept trying to mow us down with that murderous laser fire. He blew away a few bystanders and cars in the process, but that wasn't my problem.

"Jim, it's Paul! We've got a gunship that's close to taking us out! Blow this fool out of the sky! Hurry!"

"Paul, Jim here," said James over the comms. "You rang?" Suddenly, the was mauled by laser fire, as I saw an Arwing zip by us up the street. I may not have liked the Boss, and sometimes I even hated his guts, but he did have good timing. Unfortunately, the pilot of that gunship was particularly vengeful that day. He fired off a missile before crashing into a molten wreck on the street. I looked over my left shoulder and glared at this screaming tube of death hurtling towards us at a million miles an hour.

"Paul!" I yelled before blacking out. That was most likely due to the missile hitting us in the rear.

I think the only reason both of us are still alive today is because of Paul's paranoia. He insisted that his car be made of ghurium, an exotic metal found on his species' homeworld that was sixty times stronger than diamond. He told us that it was "just in case some fool with a rocket tried to take me out in my car." Goddamn, he's a fucking genius that dragon. But… the missile hurt us bad.

When I came to, I was in a Med-pod, the only one on the Great Fox Zero: that was our team's mothership. Well, a temporary one, according to James. He said that the real Great Fox was still under construction, and this was just a placeholder. It was a good ship, and I never knew why James insisted that one be built from scratch. Hell, the Zero had more rooms than the new one. Anyway, these Med-pods are basically miracle workers. Given enough time, it could heal any wound, any injury, any ailment. Fucking cancer, even. Can you imagine that? Fifty years ago, cancer was almost a death sentence. Now, just pop into a Med-pod and it'll go away in a day or two. Problem is, they aren't cheap. Not at all. Most hospitals have two, three maybe. Almost nobody privately owns one. Miracles aren't cheap, I guess.

I opened my eye, and it felt like I just closed it. Like blinking, really. I closed my eyes in Paul's car getting blasted to bits, and I opened them - well, one - in the Med-pod. I was still wearing the pants I had on, but my shirt and jacket were gone. Actually, everything I wore above my waist was gone. My head was numb as Hell, and my body had this slight ache, like I hadn't used it in days. That's the truth really, I was out for two days. I looked for the internal manual release, and I found it: it was all glowing a nice green color. I pressed a button, then turned the knob next to it a full 360 degrees, then flipped a switch next to the knob. A nice security procedure just to make sure any jostling didn't open the pod prematurely.

So, the pod release worked perfectly. The lid slid open, retracting away as the light of the sickbay forced me to squint and cover my face. A few seconds was all I needed to adjust. I grunted, trying to sit up. I was hurt badly: there were red-stained bandages all over my torso and arms. I kept wondering why my head was so numb and just radiating pain. Luckily, my legs worked, although I grunted and winced as I turned to stand up on my own. I firmly grasped the pod for support, and hobbled to a nearby mirror, above a sink. I stared into it for the longest time. There was a bandage over much of the left of my head, especially over my eye. there were faint splotches of faded red on it, as if blood seeped through the layers of bandages.

"You okay, Wolf?" said a voice. I slowly turned, going any faster would've hurt me. It was Paul. He looked fine, dressed normally, aside from his jacket that was missing. I tended to see him with one of those leather jackets on him than without. His left arm was in a cast, and his right arm had stitches on it. There were also stitches on his right eyebrow, and he hand bandages all over his wings. His tail was in a cast too.

"I'm okay," I said. "Just… banged up. My… my eye…"

"It's gone," he said bluntly. I liked that about Paul. If you were a friend of his, he was always honest with you, even - no, especially if it hurt. "Shrapnel ripped it apart. Luckily, your eye also acted as a shield: if that piece of metal went even a few more inches into your head, it would have hit your brain and killed you. It's very fortunate that it didn't and you're here to tell the tale."

The news hit me like a freight train. I just stood there, not believing the very simple truth that I had lost an eye. Half of my vision, gone. Vapor. It was all black. I couldn't see the left side of… well, anything anymore. I tried to shrug it off with humor.

"Well," I started, "at least I get to wear an eyepatch. Eyepatches are still badass, right?" Paul chuckled at my remark.

"I guess so," he said. "Listen, Wolf, after Peppy and Pigma picked us and the car up for evac and whisked us back to the Zero, I told Jim that getting the gems was all you. How you and I managed to gun down dozens of their goons, and how you found the gems among the bodies. I haven't lied about someone like that in a while."

"Thanks," I said in a low, almost pained voice. I leaned slightly against the Med-pod, almost too weak to even stand. "Hey, I wanna talk to the Boss. I wanna talk to James."

"What for?" Paul asked. I saw that he tried to put his hands in his jacket's pockets, but since he had no jacket on, he put them in his pockets. He tended to do that a lot, just put his hands in pockets or something.

"I just… I wanna see if things are cool between him and I." Paul nodded silently.

"Are you good enough to walk?" I hesitated to answer, but threw out an answer anyway.

"Yeah." Paul nodded again.

"Wait there a minute," he said as he left the room. A few seconds later, he came back. "Here." He gave me a purple leather jacket with no sleeves. "It's my old vest - well, actually, a sleeveless jacket. I took the sleeves off. I used to wear it in high school. Yes, it's that old." I struggled to put it on, wincing in pain.

"It's pretty big…" I said. "Purple?"

"I was… a different guy back then. Living in a different time."

"Purple…?"

"It was… a very interesting time."

"Purple."

"Listen, you want it? Or should I give it to Steve?"

"Oh fuck that then, thanks." I went to the mirror to see how I looked. I wasn't too bad. I still have it, and I wear it sometimes. "Where's the Boss?"

"On the bridge. He's speaking with the client now. Last I heard they were very happy all of the gems were returned in a timely fashion."

"I think I'll go now," I said, hobbling to the door.

"Alright," Paul said. "Do you need help or have you got this?"

"I got this," I answered. I stayed by the wall, grasping it occasionally with my hand. Paul walked beside me. We went to the elevator which brought us up to the bridge. On the short ride I leaned against the wall of the elevator, my whole body aching. When we arrived, I stood up as straight as I could and stepped onto the bridge.

The client was Rafael Esterházy, from the Magyar Empire. Esterázy was a member of a prominent family, and apparently the gems were his. It didn't matter to me: he wanted them, and was willing to pay to get them. And there he was, standing on the bridge, talking with James. I hurriedly zipped up Paul's vest to keep my bare chest from view. Esterházy was accompanied by two bodyguards wearing tactical gear and wielding Magyar blasters, and a starship of Magyar design was not far off the bow of the Zero, parked right in front of us. Esterházy was almost what I expected: some snooty short little guy wearing a nice suit and jewelry. But… I almost felt that there was something way more to him. Something… dangerous. Like, it wouldn't be good for me to get on his bad side. And I don't mean that he'd send goons after me, I get it. But that feeling was… it was about himself. As if Rafael Esterházy was a blaster loaded full of just plain malice, and he was just waiting for an excuse to unload on someone. It's almost the same feeling I had with James.

The rest of the team was up on the bridge: Peppy, Pigma, Steve. Peppy and Pigma were standing on the right and left of James, respectively. Steve was standing a bit a ways behind the three, but I could see him clear as day. ROB was where he usually was, at the conn. There were two figures I'd never seen before, though, aside from Esterházy and his buddies.

"Your payment has been transferred, Mr. McCloud," he said in his thick Magyar accent. "I thank you again for doing this for me. Know that I may call upon your services again should I require a… problem to be resolved in this system. After all, my family and I have interests here."

"Of course, Mr. Esterházy," said James. "We're happy to provide you with any more assistance, should you ask." They both then turned to me. "Ah, here he is. I'd like to introduce you to Wolf O'Donnell, the man who personally recovered your gems." I walked to the two of them as best I could, keeping a lid on the pain pulsing through me.

"Trust me," said Esterházy, "I understand the sacrifices you made to accomplish this task, and I appreciate it. That is why I am doing this." He pulled, with his mind, from his pocket, the pouch of gemstones. A psionic. Of course he was. Without even touching the pouch, and with only his hand outstretched, he opened it and took a clean-cut sapphire. He motioned with his head, and I opened my hand and offered it. He gently placed the stone onto my palm, and I closed it.

"Thank you, sir," I said, not knowing what else to say. That sapphire was worth twenty thousand credits, and he just handed to me. He didn't even hand it to me, he floated it into my hand.

"You're very welcome," said Esterházy. I stepped back a bit from him. He then looked around the room at each of us, and then I noticed there were two new faces on the bridge: a raven, and an amphibian. "Thank you all, again." He looked at Paul from head to toe, almost scanning him.

"Uram," said Paul, nodding his head and making some sort of gesture with his hand. At least, that's what I think he said. Esterázy smiled and nodded at him. I later asked Paul what he said, and he told me he said something like "Mister" or "Sir." Then, Esterázy turned to Steve, the only Magyar on our team at the time. He smiled at him too, and Steve smiled back. That was probably the first time I ever saw him smile. Paul later told me that they were most likely telepathically communicating: Steve was like Esterházy: a psionic. Esterházy spoke some Magyar words, and in an instant, he and his goons teleported back to their ship. Then, it flew away from us and jumped into hyperspace.

When all was said in done, the team was half a million credits richer, and I had a precious stone. I stuffed the stone into my pocket as James walked to me.

"Not bad for your first op, Pup," he said to me. I hated that nickname. I hated how he gave everyone nicknames. I hated those stupid sunglasses that he never seemed to take off. But most of all… I was kind of afraid of him. Afraid of what he could do, what he did already, and what he wanted to do, especially as things started to get rough. "I want you to meet some important people."

"This is Peter Sigurdsson," said James, gesturing to the raven. "He's a doctor, and he saved your life. We found him on Macbeth almost right after you and Paul got shot. Now, he's with us." Peter nodded to me, and I nodded back.

"Thanks for everything, Doc," I said to Peter.

"You're welcome," said Peter in a gravelly voice. "Just try to avoid doing something like that again." Peter was tall and lanky, about the same height as James. He wore army greens and a blue beret, which meant that he served time in the Cornerian Army, and was probably from Gutland.

"No promises."

"And here," continued James, "is Beltino Toad." Hmm. Beltino. Short. Stocky. Wore glasses. He had a little moustache that always bothered me, and always seemed to be wearing some sort of little hat, usually a skullcap or something. The frog nodded at me. "Beltino's gonna be our resident engineer," added James.

"That's right," said Beltino. "If your Arwing's too shaky when you hit atmo, the Zero's crashing into the ground, or you want a tour of the auxiliary crawlspaces, you come to me." He had a nerdy, yet slick voice. That didn't stop people from giving Beltino some respect, especially James, who called him "Chief" a lot. I nodded silently to the guy. "Also," he said, "if you ever want me to make you a cybernetic eye, I'll be glad to."

"No thanks," I said after some moments thinking about it. I still don't know why I didn't say "yes." Maybe I thought I'd be more badass with an eyepatch. Maybe I was scared about the operation messing me up even more. Maybe I was just too angry losing my eye to think about replacing it. I don't know.

"Alright," replied Beltino. "The offer still stands though, if you ever want to."

"Now then," said Peter. "As the ship's doctor, I'm telling you Wolf, to get some food and water down your gullet. You haven't eaten in two days, so you might as well start again now. Water will do, but for food, I suggest something warm, something you don't need to chew a lot. Like soup or oatmeal. You should also rest often for a week or two, to let your wounds properly heal. The Med-pod did most of the work, but now you need to let nature take over."

"Got it," I said. I headed to the elevator. Paul followed me. But James had a few more words to say to me before I left.

"Wait a minute, Wolf," he said to me. I stopped and turned back to James. I noticed that he started to have a new look: some off-white leather space duster instead of his regular flight jacket. "You made a few mistakes, got a few scrapes and bruises. It happens to all of us. You weren't bad, even proved me wrong about you. Once you've recovered, I'm thinking about using you for more jobs."

I stood up straight, proud that I actually did something decent in his eyes. Proud that I wasn't just some weight to be dragged around. I wasn't the rookie anymore, some country bumpkin from a no-name town on Corneria.

"Just be less reckless next time," James added. "I'd prefer not to see you get shot."

"Understood Boss," I said.

"Good," James said. "Welcome to Star Fox… Wolf O'Donnell." He put his hand on my shoulder, in some half-hearted move to assure me that I was alright. I guess I was alright back then… at least for a while. "Now go on, get some food in your system." I nodded, and went to the elevator. Paul followed me, and we went down and away from the bridge, to the level where the mess hall was. In the elevator, I breathed a sigh of relief as I leaned back against the wall. Once we reached our floor, we stepped out into the hallway.

"It feels… surreal," I said to Paul. He turned to me, stopping after almost heading down the hallway.

"What does?" he asked.

"Me being a part of this team. I… I think this is the first time in a while I feel like… like I'm actually a part of something. Something that can actually make a difference. You know?"

"I get the feeling. You want to contribute to something. Change the 'verse, right?"

"Well, I mean, I'm also loving the fact I can make a few creds." Paul chuckled at that.

"Yeah, I feel you," he said to me.

"But yeah, changing the 'verse," I continued. "That's a plus in my opinion. At least I'm not sitting around fucking off while other people do the same high-octane shit we just did. I mean, did you see that? We mowed down some serious bad guys back on Macbeth."

"Yeah… we did." Paul said as he seemed a bit distressed at that remark.

"What's up, Paul?"

"It's nothing important. It's just that… killing isn't everything in this business. You really shouldn't get used to it, otherwise you'd turn your blaster on anyone and become just an assassin. Like Steve."

"Ugh. Yeah. Don't be a Steve," I said.

"Don't be a Steve," repeated Paul. Steve is a real piece of work. Dangerous as all Hell, but he's a social wreck. I guess that's why he usually didn't leave his quarters outside of work or food on the Zero.

"Listen, Wolf," Paul added. "You're a good kid." I usually hated when people called me things like "Kid" or "Pup" but Paul was an exception. He was old: really old. Old enough to be my grandpa, or even my great-grandpa. He had decades of experience, and knew exactly what he was talking about. I gave him a pass on that.

"I don't want to see you get killed over some stupid things," he continued. "If you're careful, and you play your cards right, you can make a lot of money, a lot of friends, and earn a lot of respect from a lot of people. This is a very rewarding business if you're smart. And you seem smart. Just be more careful, okay? You've got potential, promise. Don't get pulled down and concerned over what people think of you. You do you, get experience, train, and trust your instincts, and you're going to turn into a respectable figure in this business."

"I understand, Paul," I said to him sincerely. "Thanks for the info. And thanks for helping me, and vouching for me."

"Hey, when I saw you take down that shootist back on Papetoon," he said, "I just knew that you were perfect for our outfit. You'll do fine here."

"Thanks Paul," I said. "I… I appreciate all you've done for me so far. I think you're the only one on this ship I can really call a friend. A… a good friend."

Now at this point I… I don't know how to really describe it. I guess you could call it a connection or something. I felt flustered or nervous or something like that. My palms got sweaty, and I just felt hot all of a sudden. He nodded to me, said that he felt the same way and that he'd see me later, and then walked away to his quarters. He was at the door to his room when I walked to him.

"Hey, wait a minute," I said. The door opened, but Paul stopped short of entering his room. I unzipped the vest he had given me, while he had a slightly confused look on his face. "I… really appreciate what you've done for me." I wasn't as tall as Paul, but I managed my best. I put my hands up to his face, gently caressing him. I moved up to him, pressing myself against him. He then softly grasped my wrists, and pulled himself away from me. At first I thought I did something wrong, and I did. Then, he explained.

"Sorry, Wolf," Paul said. "But I prefer women. I'm kind of old-fashioned that way."

"Right," I said, retracting back from Paul. I was devastatingly embarrassed, but Paul, as always, was cool as a cucumber. I didn't even want to look at him.

"Don't sweat it," he said to me, trying to bring my hopes up and remove the awkwardness of the whole situation. "You'll find someone decent. Everyone does."

"Yeah," I said, rubbing my hands together. I looked back up at Paul's face. "Are you sure?"

"Let me check," he said in a sarcastic, playful voice, staring off into space. A second later, he said "Yeah, I'm sure." I chuckled at that.

"Well," I started. "It's a damn shame. Damn shame." I gazed at Paul, taking him up one hundred percent. It was a fucking shame, really. God. He is something. Sometimes, when he and I cross paths… ooh, the things I think.

"Sorry, but hey: there's always imagination, right?" I blushed at that comment.

"Yeah," I said. "There is. I'm… gonna get some chow and… go to my… room." Paul nodded.

"Okay," he said. "I'm going to leave you alone now." We nodded at each other, and he went into his room and the door closed behind him. Conspicuously, the door locked. After that encounter, I went to the mess hall and got some soup and water.

I don't regret ever being a part of Star Fox. In all honest, I'm a little grateful for the whole experience. I made good friends, and good loves. The money wasn't bad at all, either. But what it turned into, what James turned into, and what he forced me into… I can't ever forgive that. And his son… his son is just him. I can't sleep at night knowing that.


End file.
